Wrapped


Born as Israel, lacking answers
To eight months of prayer, to prophecies and purpose,
She, with a blue heart,
Was brought into the forest of burden.

An empty child gift-wrapped in layers of silence.
Folded harshly at potential,
Taped with hasteful discipline,
And bowed with an tight smile.
All to exhibit a promise
Of blessings unknown, blessings unknown.

Forced down the narrow path designed for the willing.
Lost leading the lost with her crippled compass.
Each defiance was only the work of the Fallen.
Each surrender only encouraged the mission.
She spirals into the whys of creation,
But fate never shares the fortune of answers.

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